


I'll Be Home for Christmas

by tyranusfan



Series: The Search for Bucky Barnes [9]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Flashbacks, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyranusfan/pseuds/tyranusfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some of the Avengers, Christmas has often been a bittersweet affair.  Part 9 of "The Search for Bucky Barnes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Home for Christmas

Part 9 of "The Search for Bucky Barnes."  
Set after the earlier pieces in this series: "Visiting Hours," "Breaking the Leash," "Chasing Ghosts Part I," "Inseparable," "168 hours," "Realists," "Chasing Ghosts, Part II," and "Sparring," 

Takes place four or five months after Sparring.

With the events of 'Age of Ultron,' this series is officially AU, but since the basic lineup of these stories was set up a year ago after 'Winter Soldier,' there's not much to be done about it.   
Special thanks to geminigrl11. I own nothing.

**I'll be Home for Christmas**

_20 Months After the Fall of S.H.I.E.L.D._  
 _New York City_  
 _December 23, 2015_

 

"I don't feel comfortable with this," Steve announced, fidgeting with the ribbon around his collar.

Sam leaned against the elevator wall and looked over at him with a practiced patient expression. "Why not?"

Steve forced himself to stop touching the medal around his neck. "I'm going to a Christmas party wearing a Congressional Medal of Honor."

Wilson didn't appear impressed. "Not unusual for a war hero...."

"A Medal of Honor that was awarded _posthumously_." 

"Ah!" Sam said, nodding quickly. "So that's what's been eating you."

It was all General Rayburn's doing. He'd gone back and found the records of Steve's decoration in 1945, awarded for single-handedly stopping Schmidt's plane and saving New York City from destruction. The original medal held a prominent spot in the Smithsonian. With Steve's abrupt return from the ice, and his subsequent less-than-public service to S.H.I.E.L.D., no one had bothered to check if anyone had actually issued the medal _to_ Steve, though he had been more than okay with that. 

After Ghudaza, Rayburn had taken it upon himself to get a new medal issued and officially re-awarded. The President had enthusiastically endorsed the idea. "An unprecedented and historic event," Ellis had said. Bucky thought it had more to do with election year politics, and he was probably right, but Ellis was a hard man to say no to, especially when he framed it in broader terms of celebrating the troops' efforts fighting Hydra and ending the war in East Africa. He'd made it impossible for Steve to say no.

Which, according to regulations, meant Steve had to wear the medal as part of his dress uniform. Like when the governor of New York invited the Avengers to a charity holiday ball on Christmas Eve. 

"You saved the city from being nuked," Sam said. "Or, whatever was in Red Skull's bombs—"

"It's not a memory I like reliving," Steve said curtly. 

Sam considered him for a moment, then shrugged with a sympathetic expression. "I know. But, look at it this way, it's not for you. It's for _them_. For the people who want to honor what you did."

Steve watched him for a moment, then sighed. "I really hate when you say things like that."

They rode in silence for a few moments.

"I'm sorry you had to cancel your date," Sam said softly.

Steve didn't answer, just watched the numbers tick by on the floor display. 

"You did cancel your date, didn't you?" 

Steve smiled. "I said I'd come to this party." He leveled a stern stare on his friend. "I never said I'd stay."

Sam chuckled. "Oh, boy. Well, don't expect me to cover for you if the governor asks."

Steve just arched an eyebrow. Sam's eyes widened. Then he frowned. "You want me to cover for you, don't you?"

"If you don't mind," Steve sing-songed, trying to keep his expression as innocent-looking as possible.

Sam sighed again. "I can already tell this night's going to be fun."

The door opened with a chime. Steve clapped Sam on the shoulder. "We'll rehearse lines in a little while."

The ball was already in full swing. Steve scanned the room, but couldn't find Tony or any of the others. The first face he recognized was Governor Wright, who spotted Steve immediately and walked over with his hand extended. 

"Captain Rogers, so glad you could make it!"

Steve shook the man's hand graciously. "Thank you, sir." 

The governor corralled Steve toward a reception area near a bank of windows overlooking the city, and introduced him to a slew of likely influential people whose names and professions went by so fast Steve barely managed to keep up. They all seemed pleased—in that political way he'd recognized even back during the war—to have him and his friends attending. Steve made small talk for a short while, until another group of well-known faces stepped off the elevator and he could make his escape. 

By the time he made his way through the crowd, Thor was holding court near a buffet table in his full, gleaming Asgardian regalia, including winged ceremonial helmet. Jane was standing next to him, wearing an elaborate—also Asgardian—gown.

Tony and Pepper were loitering by the bar, talking to Sam. Steve moved toward them, forced to stop and shake hands with a two officers from Fort Hamilton and some City Council members, before finally reaching the relative safety of his friends.

"Nice hardware, Cap," Tony said, pointing at Steve's medal. Pepper poked him in the side. Tony appeared indignant. "What? It is nice. I’m being nice."

"Thank you, Tony," Steve said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes lest it encourage Stark further.

"Sam tells us you don't want to be here any more than we do," Tony muttered, covering his mouth with a glass. 

"Any more than _you_ do," Pepper interjected. "I don't mind spending a nice evening out."

"It definitely wasn't my first choice," Steve admitted. "Kinda had other plans." 

"Oh?" Tony's eyes lit up. "Wanna share?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you can't keep a secret, Tony."

"I can too!"

Steve smirked at him. "Really? Does 'I am Iron Man' ring any bells?"

Tony scoffed. "Oh please, that's totally different." At Steve's shrug, he lowered his voice conspiratorially. "At least let me help you escape. I'm pretty good at sneaking out of these things."

Pepper nodded, taking a drink. "He really is."

"Thanks," Steve said. "But, I already have a plan."

Tony opened his mouth to comment about that, but was cut off when Natasha suddenly appeared between them. 

"Boys."

Steve couldn’t help but appreciate how stunning she looked in her dress. Knowing she wouldn’t appreciate any comments, though, he swallowed his reaction and gave her a nod. Stark, however, wasn’t quite so smooth. 

"Miss Romanoff, my what a—"

"Tony," Pepper interrupted, pulling Stark by the arm with a smile. "We're having a nice night. Don't make Natasha knock you out."

Natasha smiled broadly at him, then wrapped her arm around Steve's, pulling him away from the bar and toward the center of the ballroom. 

"James told me about your escape plan. How long do you have?" she whispered conspiratorially. 

"I knew he couldn't keep his mouth shut," Steve groaned with a roll of his eyes. 

"He does talk too much," Natasha agreed. "But, I was wondering if you had time for a dance."

Steve halted in his tracks. "Oh. No. No, no, no. I don't dance."

" _Steve_ ," Natasha purred, circling around in front of him. "We're already halfway onto the dance floor. If you back out now, it'll look like you're standing me up. You don't want to do that to me, do you?"

He looked behind him then down at the floor, realizing she was right. Steve looked back at her with a glare. "You don't play fair."

"If you're looking for fair, you're in the wrong line of work."

"So I'm told..." Steve glanced around them. Thor looked to be telling some epic tale, keeping most of the room's attention on him—a fact that Steve very much appreciated—so no one was looking at him or Natasha. "Look, I really _can't_ dance."

"It's simple. Just follow my lead," Natasha said, leading him by the hand deeper into the throng of party-goers. "And don't step on my feet."

They settled into a gentle swaying style that merely required Steve to shuffle in a circle—which he could handle—in a densely packed area of the floor. No one was watching, save for Tony and Pepper, and, Steve assumed, the rest of his friends around the room. He could handle that, too. 

It was hard not to think back to that night in London, only days after Fury's people had thawed him, when he'd danced with Peggy in her home. That had only been a few months before she'd had to move into the retirement center. He'd had one successful, if bittersweet, dance in his adult life. It was difficult not to feel depressed about that. 

They danced silently for a few minutes before Natasha spoke up again. "You're a million miles away, Rogers."

Steve blinked, then smiled. "Yeah, I guess I am."

Natasha watched him for a moment, then sighed softly. "I...have a confession to make."

He narrowed his eyes. "Uh oh. Don't like the sound of that."

"The others have a wager going," She said quietly. "Stark didn't think I could get you onto the dance floor, and Clint didn't think you'd last five minutes even if I did."

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it. "Really?"

She shrugged. 

"What was your bet?"

Natasha smiled coyly. "That yes, I could, and ten minutes."

Steve glanced around the room. Sure enough, all their friends were watching intently and doing an awful job of hiding their stares. Even Thor was surreptitiously glancing over while telling his stories. Steve stifled a sigh. "All right. Ten minutes."

"If you dance for fifteen minutes I'll beat the spread and Jane and Pepper will pay up, too."

He shot Natasha a mildly irritated glance. "Fine. Fifteen minutes. Don't say I never did anything for you."

She smiled. "I'm sure there are worse ways to spend Christmas."

Steve chuckled ruefully. "You've got a point."

**CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS**

_Brooklyn, New York_  
 _December 20, 1941_

 

"You're a million miles away, Steve."

Steve looked up from where he'd been watching Dottie refill his coffee cup. She was looking at him with a sympathetic expression.

"I know it's been tough since Bucky left, sweetie," she said, leaning on the counter between them. "But, don't worry about him. He's been taking care of himself for a long time."

Steve looked up at her and nodded. "I know."

_He's looked after me for a long time, too...._

"That boy's a born soldier," Dottie continued, wiping the counter down with a towel. "Just like his pop. You watch, he'll be back here with a chest full of medals before the year is out."

Steve grinned. Dottie had always had an eye for Bucky. "I won't tell him you said that. It'd just feed his ego."

Dottie winked at him. "Got you smiling, though, didn't it? So, what are you doing all day in that lonely little apartment now that Buck's gone?"

"Lonely" was right. The first few days after Bucky had left on the train, the apartment had felt emptier and quieter than ever before. If Steve didn't spend his days watching the shop, he surely would have gone crazy. The nights were the worst. There were times when he could hear every creak and echo in the place.

"Just lookin' to stay busy," Steve answered. "Trying to get a few more hours at the store."

"The Old Man is stingy," Dottie said. "All you do around there you should get more than fifty lousy cents an hour."

"It'll do until I enlist," Steve said. 

A frown briefly crossed Dottie's face, but she covered it quickly. Steve ignored it. He was used to it. No one thought he could make it in the Army, except Bucky. _And even Buck has his doubts._

It didn't matter. He'd show them. It was going to take more than a little asthma and a laundry list of physical ailments to keep him from proving his worth. Steve put a few coins into the tip jar and shrugged his coat on. It was getting dark. 

"Have a good night!" he said, with more merriment than he felt. 

Dottie winked at him. "Oh, I _will_. You've put a picture of Bucky Barnes in uniform into my head. I'm going to have pleasant dreams tonight!" 

Steve shook his head and laughed. She was incorrigible. " _Goodnight_ , Miss Underwood!"

**CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS**

_Washington, D.C._  
 _December 22, 2004_

 

Phil Coulson didn't turn from the interrogation room window when the door opened. He didn't need to look to know who it was. Instead, he kept his eyes on the young redhead sitting alone on the other side of the glass. She hadn't moved an inch in over an hour.

"Still not talking, huh?" Barton asked, coming to a stop by the window. 

"Not a word," Coulson replied. 

Barton nodded. "Yeah, the flight across the Atlantic was fun. Think she'd at least be bragging. She tore through my team like tissue paper."

"Pretty much what I would expect from a Black Widow." Coulson mused. When Barton looked over at him, he handed over the file folder in his hand. 

Barton flipped through it and whistled softly. "Thought that was a myth."

"Did some digging. Found files about them dating all the way back to the S.S.R." Coulson eyed him finally. "Nice shiner."

Barton frowned at him, then huffed as he rubbed his black eye. "Yeah, Laura's gonna be real pleased with our Christmas photo this year."

Coulson frowned back. "Who does a spy send holiday cards to, anyway?"

"No one," Barton grinned. "Part of the deal. I get to fly all over doing my secret agent stuff, Laura gets to pretend we live a normal life even when we don't, and if I'm smart I play along."

"If you were smart, you wouldn't be bringing stray spiders home." Coulson retorted. "The kill order came from the top." He didn't need to spell out who had written the orders. Hawkeye knew full well he'd defied an order from the Secretary himself.

"You didn't see her out there, Phil. She's not what they say she is." 

"What is she then?"

Barton opened and closed his mouth a few times, then shrugged. "I had to make the call and I did. I don't have a good answer."

Coulson studied him for a moment, then handed over the other file. "Well, find one. It's time to bring her in from the cold."

"Fury's offering her a job?" Barton asked, eyebrows rising.

"If you can get her on board."

"Why so soon? What's the rush?"

Coulson just smiled at him. If Fury could get Romanoff onboard quickly, and demonstrate how her knowledge could help S.H.I.E.L.D., it would go a long way to smoothing things over with Pierce. But, it was best for Barton to have to sweat about his defiance for a little while.

Barton looked at his watch. "I'm on a plane for home at seven AM tomorrow."

Coulson moved toward the door. "Better talk fast, then."

Barton looked from the window to the files and back, shaking his head in exasperation. 

"Oh, and Clint?" Coulson said, stopping halfway out of the room. "Merry Christmas."

**CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS**

_Camp Barlow_  
 _Afghanistan_  
 _December 2, 2011_

 

"Man, two more weeks! I can't wait."

"I can see that," Sam replied with a small smile. "You haven't talked about anything else all day."

Riley glowered at him. "Why aren't _you_ more excited Wilson?"

Sam shook his head. "I just prefer to focus on the here and now, so we don't get our asses shot off before we get on that plane."

"You're _negative_. That's what you are," Riley chided.

"And you're a dumbass," Sam shot back.

"Maybe, but I'm a positive dumbass."

Sam nodded. "Mm-hmm, _positively_." 

They were five and half months into their tour, and due to rotate back to the States on the 20th. With a little luck, they'd be home before Christmas Eve.

At least, according to Riley's math. Sam suspected the post-deployment paperwork was going to take longer than his wingman chose to believe. 

"What do you miss the most?" Riley asked suddenly, eyes faraway. 

Sam frowned, thinking about it. He liked his job; there wasn't much he'd change, except.... "Pillows. I'm tired of sleeping on rocks."

Riley laughed. "Amen, brother."

The door to the mess opened, and Captain Flynn stuck his head inside. Sam and Riley stood to attention. "Sergeants, Major Thompson wants you in his office."

They gathered their trays and dumped their contents in the trash, then followed the captain out and down the hall toward the command center. 

Inside his office, Thompson was at his desk. "Sergeants, come in. Close the door."

Riley did as instructed, then returned to Sam's side. Thompson stood and circled around the desk, handing Sam a tablet with a personnel file on the screen.

"Ever heard of Khaled Kandil?"

Sam looked over the file, then shook his head. "Can't say that I have, sir."

"He's a local, been scouting the mountains for the Rangers. He and his Army liaison have been surrounded by insurgents out in Sector 9, completely cut off. We need to extract him, ASAP."

"No choppers?" Riley asked, looking at the file over Sam's shoulder. 

Thompson frowned. "They tried, this morning. So many damn RPGs in the air it was like the Fourth of July. The birds barely made it back to base. We need something fast and hard to hit. They've got wounded, so that means Pararescue, which means you."

Sam shared a glance with Riley, then nodded. "We'll get suited up, sir."

"Good," Thompson nodded back. "Chinook will take you as far as the FOB. Wheels up in thirty."

"Yes, sir," Sam and Riley replied in unison. They filed out, heading for the hangar. 

"Okay, _one_ more mission, then we go home," Riley stated emphatically. 

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'll miss your optimism, Kevin."

**CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS**

_Present Day_  
 _New York City_

 

Steve settled near one of the dessert tables off the dance floor. Natasha smiled and winked as she exited the opposite side of the floor, joining up with Jane and Pepper. Sam sidled up to his right side a moment later. 

"You stayed out there longer than I thought you would," Sam stated, looking impressed.

"Oh, I'm sure I did," Steve replied. "Hope I didn't cost you too much money."

"I _knew_ Nat would tell you. Never trust a spy," Sam said with mock irritation. "It's all for charity. I'm not ashamed."

"What possible charity—?" Steve asked, but Sam cut him off.

"The Steve Rogers Social Education Fund. All proceeds go to getting 96-year old sticks-in-the-mud to go out and enjoy themselves. Tony started it last night."

"Ha, ha," Steve sneered.

"Is your ride here yet?"

"On your right." A low voice murmured in his ear. Sam nearly jumped out of skin. 

"I hate when you do that!" he whispered, glaring at Barnes, who had appeared at his side and was perusing the selection of sugar cookies on the buffet table. 

Steve frowned over Sam's shoulder. "Buck, what are you doing up here? You were supposed to wait in the car."

"It's _cold_ in the car," Barnes retorted. "Besides, I had money riding on that dance."

"You too?" Steve asked, then glared at Sam's broad grin. "Don't even."

Steve shifted his attention to Bucky, glancing down at his coat. "Did you get it?"

"Mm-hmm," Bucky murmured, already working on a red- and green-iced cookie. With his free hand he pulled an expensive-looking box of Christmas chocolates, complete with bow. 

Steve grinned. "Perfect, she loves these." 

"You ready to go?" Bucky asked, glancing around the room to make sure they weren't being observed. He shoved another cookie in his mouth.

"What's our exit?" Steve asked quietly. 

"Fire door, behind and to the right," Barnes said, already fading into the shadows. 

Steve tapped Sam's shoulder. "You know what you're gonna say?"

"'Haven't seen the Captain recently, Governor, but I'm sure he's here somewhere.' I got it," Sam nodded affirmatively.

"Okay, night!" Steve followed Barnes into the dark corner on the east side of the room. When he got to the fire door, he frowned again. "You unplugged the alarm? That's not safe."

"Relax, I'll plug it back in when we close the door. Worry Wart," Barnes said.

They were outside and on the fire escape in moments. Steve pulled his uniform jacket closer. "I should change clothes."

Bucky shook his head. "Nah, the ladies love a man in uniform. Trust me."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Not this again."

"You know I'm right."

"Let's stay on point, Buck. Remember this time: no assaulting the guards. They're just doing their jobs," Steve admonished as they descended the steps. 

"I know the plan, Stevie," Barnes scoffed. "And I didn't 'assault' anyone. The guy tripped."

"Down the stairs!" Steve said. 

"Still not my fault," Bucky said. "You didn't tell me that Peggy lived in a _maximum security_ retirement home."

"Just be careful this time. I barely talked us out of getting arrested that night. I don't want to spend Christmas in the clink."

"The things you do for old flames," Bucky grinned.

END

A/N: _If you watch the deleted scenes from Cap1 on the blur ray, the newspaper stand on the street said "Captain America to receive Medal of Honour," but in the final cut the words changed to "Medal for Valour." So, it seems that this MoH might be his second!_

_The dance with Peggy in London is a reference to my very first Cap story, 'Better Late Than Never.'_

_Dottie Underwood is the alias the Black Widow took in "Agent Carter." She arrived in New York in 1946. She had to get the identity somewhere..._

_Christmas 2004 would be about two years after Pierce took control of the Winter Soldier, as seen in "Realists."_

_Camp Barlow is named for a USAF airman killed in Hulk Vol 2 #50._

_'Kevin Riley' is a little nod to Star Trek._


End file.
